Making Headlines
by Cardboard Edward
Summary: In which two young women slowly break 20s era New York as we know it with minor revolutions and outrageous articles. Also, kissing. A collection of drabbles, ficlets, etc, based on Lilit and Adela Rogers. Adelit.
1. Introduction

Because my Leviathan crack otp deserves an 100 themes fic. I honestly do not know how often this will be updated, so I apologize in advance, haha.

The first prompt happened to correlate with the request of a friend of mine, so huzzah! Here it is:

"linguaphile answered: Adela is miffed to have such a minor assignment - interviewing a Turkish ambassadorial attache? She's better than this."

* * *

_introduction_

Adela runs her tongue over her top teeth, catching a small blot of red lipstick. She adjusts her pale pink hat, cocking it slightly more to the left, and nods, content with her reflection.

Her job, however, is a complete other story.

In a world where Prince Alek had chosen to confide in her, she, young and beautiful Adela Rogers, who lived with him on that damned flying whale for two weeks, who had waited patiently for a follow up interview, who had followed the bell captain around looking for the slightest bread crumb of information, today would have been fine.

She emphasizes the thought by stomping her foot down hard on the sidewalk.

Excellent, really. She would have gone to meet him for an interview, wrote a sweet little article about how the prince was spending his holidays in the big city, and then had the evening to herself, curled up with some Bovril in front of her room's fireplace.

But that is not the case. Instead, Prince Alek decided to spill everything to _Edward Malone_, with his ill-fitting jackets and poorly shaven jowl, leaving her storyless and Mr. Hearst flabber-ghasted.

So he had to find her something else. Someone else. And that someone was the assistant to the Turkish Ambassador. The _assistant_, not even the ambassador himself. He was, most likely, a dull old fuddy duddy who would be of no interest of her, and therefore, her readers.

It was all very irritating.

Lost in her thoughts, she had almost missed the lovely little café she had marked as their spot. It was always quiet, which was good when one had to listen to an old geezer murmur on and on in a heavy accent.

Her fists clench, wrinkling up her lace gloves, and she forces herself to take another step forward the quaint doors. A smiling man lets her in, and she nods at the host familiarly, walking towards the large window towards the back where she had told the assistant to meet her, though telegram.

She stops with a start when she realizes the table is already occupied- by a lovely young lady who is glaring out the window, light from outside illuminating her soft skin and dark hair. She frowns, already turning away to look at the other tables, when reporter's instinct snaps her back. The second looks allows her to notice the dusky tone of her skin, her thick hair dark as night, the traditional- Armenian, wasn't it?- clothes she was in.

Was this her ambassador's assistant?

She bustles on ahead, clutching her purse tightly, putting on a bright smile and standing in front of the table. It takes the girl a few seconds to turn, and she does so with a scowl that she does not attempt to wipe off her face.

"Would you be the ambassador's assistant, miss?"

Now that she thinks about it, it does make a lot of sense. Young and beautiful assistant? Of course! But one would think the ambassador would hire a gal who knew how to smile.

The girl straightens, lips tightening. "I am," she answers coldly. "And you would be the reporter from that…informative paper?"

"Indeed I am!" Adela says, a surprising enthusiasm bursting out of her. She sits across from the girl, taking out her notepad and pen. "Adela Rogers, at your service."

The assistant actually grimaces. "Lilit."

"Last name?" Adela says, nose to her notepad. There was a pause, and Adela slowly lifts her head. "Last name?" She tries again, projecting her voice more.

"They're…. Not used in my city," she says, brow furrowing.

Adela smiles brightly, as if this is completely normal. "Not a problem. I can call you Miss Lilit, then. Well, to start with…"

She looks up at Lilit, waiting for a opener to come to her, as they always do. Instead, she notices a detail she hadn't before- a row of shiny gold coins forming a crown on the top of her head. The image strikes a familiar image with Adela- who had a passionate love of head wear, the more unusual, the better- and she suddenly realizes she's seen this girl before.

"Wait a minute." She says, turning her head to one side. "I know you. I'm sure of it."

"I am sure I do not know you," Lilit says in English, manners forced.

"No, no," Adela says curtly. "It was…" she shut her eyes and wandered through her memories, dinners and parties and events and—

A woman dressed in a daringly cut dress, hair up and away from her face with- yes!- a row of coins in her hair.

Her moment of victory is interrupted by a question- why did she remember her so clearly? And then that comes around, too: her arm interlocked with a boy in a uniform, with oddly fine fears and a head of fair hair.

"The _bell captain_!" Adela shouts, slamming her hands down on the table, and the guests around them all look round. Lilit herself is staring at her like she's quite mad.

"Excuse me?" She asks, in a tone that implies she worries her English is failing her.

"The bell captain- you were with him that night, at the party… snuck off in the middle of it, no one saw except me, of course, and…" She sees the girl is still looking lost, so she says, "Mr Dylan Sharp, formerly of the Leviathan?"

That gets her attention, though she still looks confused and a little wary. "You know Dylan?" She asks, carefully.

"Of course. We're good friends."

Lilit's brow furrows in a way that lets Adela know that no more lies will pass with this girl.

"And you seem to know him quite well," she says, pushing the conversations back to her.

Lilit's expression darkens and- colors? "We were acquainted when his ship came to Istanbul," she answers, emphasis on the last word.

Ah, of course. The actual subject of this interview. "Start there, then. That was around when the revolution kicked off, correct?"

"It's a very long story," Lilit began, looking irritated. "And you must have somewhere else to be- we scheduled this as a fifteen minute interview."

"I'll buy you lunch," Adela offers sweetly. "Tell me everything!"

Lilit's lips purse, and her eyes flick down to the menu. "Fine," she says, and Adela already knows she will be ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.

Completely worth it.


	2. Love

Something sweet and a little suggestive after all of that Dalek week spam. ;D Thank you for the lovely response to this fic so far!

* * *

_love_

After, Lilit rests her head on Adela's bare stomach, feels her body shiver pleasantly.

"I love you," she murmurs, pressing the words into her pale skin, once she was sure she was asleep.

She jumps when Adela curls her body closer to hers, kissing the top of her head, where her coins normally sat in her hair.

"I love you too, Miss Lilit. Very annoying, how long you made me wait for that. Can we sleep now?"

Lilit presses her nails into the soft skin of Adela's hips with annoyance, and her laugh rings out like a bell.


	3. Light

Astudyiniris's wonderful fic Den Of Thieves had some Adelit smooches in it's last chapter, so I decided to one up her. ;D

More so based on a prompt than the theme (ssh! don't tell anyone) And the prompt is as follows:

_ alaskawaters answered: Lilit kisses Adela and Adela asks if she's the first girl she's kissed (which she isn't because Deryn) _

... This is very fluffy, just a warning. I promise the sad stuff is coming soon. Heehee.

"OH GOOD GODDAMN"... I swear that's an anon, go check- thank you for the review. I think that's one of the best I've gotten. And i liked your joke. ahhaa

* * *

_light_

It is very early morning in New York City, the vaguest edges of salmon pink running into the dark blue watercolor sky, and Lilit is trying her hardest not to shiver. Despite wearing a dress with full, dark purple sleeves and a long skirt, sitting on a balcony in New York in late winter is _cold_. She turns behind her to look at the glass doors of the suite, and considers retrieving a blanket.

"I have to ask," she begins with a little shivery shake of her shoulders, shooting a look at Adela, who had, once again, dragged her along to work on a story. "Do you actually have a house in California, or do you always stay in hotels?"

"Hotels _are_ my home!" She retorts, almost sounding offended.

"Of course." Lilit responds dryly, turning towards her. "And that will stop you from ever settling properly."

Adela looks shocked, face in shadow. "You, of all people, are telling me to find a husband and settle down?"

Lilit rolls her eyes. "Settling down doesn't require finding a man-"

Adela cuts her off. "Not a _man_? Are you trying to court me, Miss Lilit?" Adela raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow, expression frustratingly unreadable. It's been months since Adela figured out Lilit's little secret. (Lilit herself was not aware of where her gaze tended to fall- until Adela pointed it out with a smirk. At least she wasn't _openly_ disgusted, though Lilit was expecting that to change any day, when Adela finally reached the end of the use for Lilit.)

"Stop teasing," Lilit glares at her, face turned away so she doesn't catch her cheeks reddening.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Adela's lips, painted a deep red, smile devilishly.

"Who said I was teasing?" She asks, a sliver of light falling across her fair features.

Adela uncrosses her legs, heel hitting the ground softly, her skirts settling gracefully. Pushing herself up by grasping the chair's arms, she leans forward in the chair, and her eyes are clos-

_Oh._

Realizing she has but seconds before she messes this all up, Lilit grips the arm rest of her own chair to hide her shaking, and tries to remember she's done this before. Once before, in the aftermath of the battle, walkers corpses lined up like the skyscrapers all around them now.

But she didn't think she'd ever see Dylan again. With Adela Rogers...

She _really _hopes she wasn't teasing.

Lilit gathers her wits, pinches her arm, and leans toward the patiently waiting reporter.

She feels her smile into the kiss immediately, and for a few seconds, it's soft and warm and wonderful- but the other woman pulls back way too soon, to, of course, talk.

It's all she ever does, and Lilit finds herself strangely frustrated at the moment.

"It's about time. I've been dropping hints for _months_." She smiles smugly, looking perfectly calm and content compared to the ball of flustered nerves Lilit's turning into.

"Excuse me if I'm reluctant to kiss a woman I barely know," Lilit mutters in defense, still wondering what on earth just happened.

"Does that mean you've kissed a woman you _did_ know?"

Lilit's mouth opens. And closes. She stares at the ground stubbornly, saying nothing.

"You have!" It comes out as a gasp, and Adela's eyes widen.

She shifts awkwardly. "I didn't know her that we-"

"But I'm not the first. Oh dear," she says, forehead crumpling perfectly. "I thought I might have been something special."

Lilit scoffs. "Something _special_?" She chokes back laughter. Unsuccessfully.

"Don't tease me. I thought I might have- I don't know, been an exception. Someone you really ought to not have fancied, but did anyway. That sort of thing."

"You really think it works like that?" She raises an eyebrow, almost smiling.

"That's how it worked for me," Adela says. Her voice lowers a little, but she keeps eye contact, mouth set stubbornly.

Lilit blinks, surprised.

She had _somewhat_ foresaw this turn of events. Adela was right- she had been hinting at a more... intimate partnership the past few months. But a confession of this matter was a different thing entirely.

"You're a charming girl, Miss Lilit," Adela says, to fill the silence. She smiles coyly, tucking a curl behind her ear. "I couldn't exactly help it. I guess I had been hoping I was to you what you are to me."

Rather stunned, Lilit slinks back into her chair. What on earth what she supposed to say? She finds herself speaking to fill the silence, to comfort Adela, and... possibly figure things out for herself.

"If it makes you feel better," she says, standing up and walking towards her. "That kiss was much better than the previous one. You were actually expecting it. And there was less... dirt. And explosions. And I had been crying so- never mind."

"Oh _dear_." She tilts her head, looking straight up at the former anarchist. "What on earth was going on? And who was this mysterious girl? Do I know her? Oh, probably not, there's not a lot of women we both know, but you could describe her to me- all off the record, of course, I'm just curi-"

Lilit is kneeling in Adela's chair as she cuts her off, her mouth pressed against hers, knees on either side of her hips. Adela makes a muffled, pleased noise against Lilit's mouth, and she feels a hand move to her waist, holding it gently.

Lilit shifts, trying to find a more comfortable position-

And suddenly the hotel chair is tipping, flying over backwards and landing them both on the ground with an obnoxiously loud clatter. None of the legs are broken, but Adela is half upright over the back of the chair, with Lilit very nearly sitting on her stomach.

Adela bursts out laughing, so hard she snorts, arms clutching each other as Lilit moves off of her, righting herself.

"I could have told you that was a bad idea, my dear miss Lilit, if you hadn't insisted on quieting me."

"Shush," Lilit hisses, crawling away from the chair legs with a scowl. Neither of them were _that_ heavy. It should have held their weight, easily.

"Not as much as a disaster as it could have been, though. You're very soft."

"_Shush_," Lilit repeats, sitting on the ground and crossing her arms.

Adela laughs again, pulling herself back up gracefully. "You'll learn with time," she says with a wink. She opens the doors behind them and retreats to her room in the suite without another world.

Lilit stays outside for the time being, righting the chair and sitting in it with her knees up, arms curled around the them, staring out at the lights of the city, waiting for the sun to rise.

She wonders if this was how miss Sharp felt when she finally kissed Alek. Like flying, she had told her in that dark movie theater.

But that isn't how she felt with Adela Rogers _at all_. It's more like being on solid ground at last, something to finally go right in her life, even with all the falls in their relationship. Including the literal ones.

She rests her cheek on her knee and sighs, feeling uncharacteristically optimistic.


End file.
